His skin tasted of driftwood, sweat, and salt, and the woodsy bite of soap left on his skin.
The little mother-of-pearl buttons on Ledger’s shirt finally gave it up as a bad job, and Wren made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat and pushed the navy cotton down his arms. One hand curled around Ledger’s waist, fingers dipped under the waistband of the chinos, and he reached up to grab a handful of hair with the other. Bony knuckles dug into the base of Ledger’s skull as Wren pulled his head back, leaving his throat pulled taut and vulnerable.
Ledger made a strangled noise in the back of his throat as Wren chewed a prom’s worth of hickeys from his ear to his collarbone. It didn’t exactly fit Ledger’s carefully curated sub-yuppie “look,” but the hell with it. He didn’t need to impress anyone in Sutton, and if he wasn’t dead by next week, he’d worry about it then.
“What would’ve happened if I’d asked more than three questions?” Ledger asked.
Wren paused and looked up at him. In the moonlight, his eyes were even blacker than usual. The stern line of his mouth was softer, and his lips flushed and wet.
“Now?”
Ledger had to acknowledge the point, but…
“I have a curious mind,” he said blandly.
“Huh.”
Wren let go of Ledger’s hair. He brushed his fingers down the nape of Ledger’s neck and then gripped his shoulder. His mouth drifted south at the same time, his breath warm as he trailed kisses down Ledger’s shoulders and across his chest.
“It’s always three,” he said. “You should know that.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Wren paused what he was doing to give Ledger an amused look. “If you want answers, you have to pay for it.”
“How much?”
Wren pressed an openmouthed kiss to Ledger’s nipple. The hot damp of his mouth made Ledger squirm in place in anticipation of teeth or tongue or… something. Instead, Wren braced his hands against the pickup and pulled away from Ledger. The muscles in his arms pulled taut under the skin as they took some of his weight. He stared at Ledger for what felt like a long time and then licked his lower lip.
“I want to fuck you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly in his throat.
Ledger smiled crookedly and draped his arm over Wren’s shoulder. He spread his hand over the taut play of muscle that stretched between sharp shoulder blades. The honey-tanned skin was smooth under his fingers.
“You’ve not really got the hang of haggling, have you?” he asked dryly. “I was going to do that for free.”
Wren grinned, sharp and predatory now, and leaned back in toward Ledger. His hair fell into his face, curls stuck to his forehead in dark squiggles.
“I want tofuckyou,” he said, and Ledger’s throat was suddenly parched, a dry heat that tightened his chest and flushed up to his temples. In case Ledger had missed his point, Wren pressed on. “I want to bend you over and spread your ass wide with my cock.”
That hadalwaysbeen a possibility. One-night stands required a certain flexibility about who got to put what where. Hearing Wren say it in that low, rough voice, though? It made Ledger’s balls clench, a tight ache that pulled at the muscles in his gut and thighs, and his cock twitch with anticipation.
“Oh,” he said. “OK.”
“OK?”
Ledger shrugged. “Yeah.”
Ledger was aware he sounded like an idiot. He just couldn’t do anything about it right now. Blood flow was the problem. It was all in one place, and it wasn’t the part of his brain that handlednotbeing an idiot. So, “yeah,” it was.
Wren folded his lower lip between his teeth and looked down between their bodies. He shifted his weight to one arm and grabbed Ledger’s cock.
“Fuck,” Ledger groaned as he tilted his head back until his skull tapped against the window. His hips thrust forward on their own, his erection grinding against Wren’s palm, and Ledger squeezed his eyes shut as he took a ragged breath.
“More than three questions, and it could have crawled nearly as deep inside you as I plan to,” Wren said.
Ledger peeled one eye open and squinted at Wren.
“That’s not hot,” he said. “For reference.”
